Promise
by wombledon
Summary: Can one promise change everything?
1. Promise 1

**Promise**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I'm only using characters from the BBC's Ashes to Ashes for fun. I don't own them and didn't invent them.

**Author's note**: This is a short fic about a possible resolution to the events at the end of the second series. Thanks to Louella for doing an excellent beta job and for providing many useful comments and suggestions. Any remaining mistakes that you come across are all my own fault.

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**Chapter One  
**

Alex's heart pounded as she walked down the driveway. What would she find? Who would she find? Her hand trembling, she steeled herself.

"Knock, you half-wit," she muttered and then rapped smartly on the door.

She was just about to knock again when there was a shuffling noise and the door opened. He stood there, still tall but not as straight, fine hair receded and silver. His eyes widened at the sight of her. "Jesus..."

"No, not even close." The high, nervous voice didn't sound like hers.

But he didn't even seem to hear her. "Alex?" He brought a shaking hand up to cover his mouth and grasped the doorframe with the other.

Alex had intended to tell him everything, to explain all the madness, all the half-truths, all the anger but her courage failed. It vanished as soon as she set eyes on him and all she wanted to do was talk, to hear his voice and the lie was out of her mouth before she knew it. "No, my name's Molly. Alex Drake was my mother. Mr Hunt... I'm sorry to drop in on you like this without calling beforehand. I was worried you wouldn't see me. I just... I had to... I... had to see you."

Gene swallowed fiercely, willing himself to keep it together in front of this young woman. "Molly. Of course, er, come in." He stood back an ushered her into a cool sitting room. "Have a seat." He gestured to one of the armchairs and Alex gratefully sat down, her legs trembling beneath her.

It was Gene; older, sadder, but it was him. She had missed him dreadfully, had longed for him from the moment she realised she was back in 2008. When she asked Evan about her parents' deaths, and discovered that Gene Hunt had been real, Alex had cried for what seemed like the entire weekend. When she was stronger, Evan had helped her to find him, even if he was baffled by her request.

However, Gene had retired a Chief Superintendent and didn't want to be found. There was no one to help her either as the entire squad from Fenchurch East had vanished; abroad, dead or nowhere to be found. There was no trace of a file belonging to Alex Drake in the records either – it was as if she had vanished. There were mutters about "an inquiry" but all attempts to find that material were stonewalled until they finally came clean. The inquiry records had been destroyed in a fire in 1990. As determined as ever, Alex refused to give up and she had tracked Gene down to a small modern villa in Portbou, in Northern Spain.

Now, here she was, sitting on an armchair, four foot away from him. He was 73 years old, the once powerful Gene Hunt was now an old, careworn man.

"What can I do for you, Ms Drake?" asked Gene, sitting down on the opposite armchair, face twisting in pain as his hip protested. Stupid lying doctor bastards. A hip replacement was supposed to give him a new lease of life. The hell it did - three months did not qualify as "a new lease of life". After that brief respite, the nagging pain returned and it had been annoying the fuck out of him every damn day since.

"Molly, please," said Alex softly. At least it was close to Bolly.

Gene nodded in acquiescence.

"Mr Hunt -"

"Gene," he interpreted curtly, a familiar note of exasperation in his voice.

"Gene, I wanted to speak to you about my mother. She left, er, her diaries on tape and I recently listened to them." The lie got easier as she spoke. There were no tapes, no evidence that she had ever even existed in 1981 or 1982, but Alex figured they would provide a good cover story. In fact, she was rather pleased that she could think of something plausible so quickly.

Gene gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Tapes! Yes, I know all about her tapes."

Alex gave him a grim smile. "There were quite a few. They were, eh, locked up in a family bank vault. I couldn't bring myself to go through them until quite recently where I discovered that every day, right up until she... left, she recorded something. Quite a lot of the tapes were about you." Alex found her voice faltering.

"I know that too," he muttered. "I didn't know the tapes had been returned to her family."

Alex's throat ached. "I just... I wanted you to know that she loved you. She loved you very much. In case, um, in case you never heard those tapes."

His eyes seemed to bore right through her.

_Oh God, Gene, you must know it's me. You always knew it when I lied to you... except when it mattered._

"I didn't listen to them but thanks for telling me that... Molly." He looked away from her and stared out the window to the sea beyond. Alex had loved him. Finally, the words had been spoken and he didn't know whether it made things easier or harder to bear. He had wanted to listen to her tapes but the inquiry team took them away. Thanks to mislaid evidence, nobody ever got to hear her tapes and he would never forgive those responsible for that - not even on his death bed. They had taken the last remnants of Alex's voice away from him or... maybe not. _Maybe she'll give me a copy._ Alex had loved him and he wanted to hear her voice say it, even if he couldn't say it back.

"You're welcome," she gulped, seeing the desolate look in his eyes.

"Anything else I can do for you?" He wanted to be alone, to digest what he'd just been told.

Alex didn't know what to say. How to ask? How to say goodbye? "Er, no, not really. I just wanted you to know what she thought because, as I understand it, the two of you parted on bad terms but I'm sure she would've wanted a chance to put things right."

Gene snorted derisively at her choice of words. "Yeah, well… we never got the chance to 'put things right'. It was a terrible accident and one we've both had to live with."

Alex blinked, completely stunned but she managed to conceal it well. Accident? What accident? Now came the second reason for her visit. "Could you tell me what actually happened? All I rem-know is that you had a dreadful row about Operation Rose. Her last tape was all about you and your argument and how she was sure you would come around." _It's all I can remember about that time, Gene. Please tell me what happened._

"How can you not know what happened?" asked Gene, puzzled as well as suspicious. "There was an inquiry - it went on for weeks."

Alex thought quickly. "My family thought it best to shelter me back then."

"I see." He still held her gaze with a steady, thoughtful look, a dangerous glimmer just about evident.

Alex knew that look well; it was his 'I'll play along but eventually I'll get the truth out of you, lying scum' look. She almost smiled and pressed on. "So, I knew pretty much nothing about the whole incident. But now… well, now things are different and I would rather hear about what happened directly from you."

Whatever he believed, or thought he knew, Gene relented. If she wanted to know then he'd tell her. So he did, with perfect recollection of the events that ended Alex's life in 1982. When it came to the most difficult part, he heard his voice cracking and hoped he'd get through his tale without breaking down. "I don't know why she did it, I had the situation covered, but she struggled with Jenette, who fired at me. When I..." Gene coughed. "When I ducked, I stumbled and I accidentally fired my gun but yo-your mother had been pushed into my line of fire and... and..." He rubbed his forehead in anguish.

Alex was gob-smacked; Gene had accidentally shot her and that's how it all ended? A stupid accident had separated them? "_You_ shot m-her?"

Gene's silence spoke volumes and Alex didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry I took your mother away from you," he said eventually, his voice flat and empty.

"It, er, it was an accident," she finished lamely. "Not your fault."

"Except it was," he added and got to his feet. Shuffling to a sideboard, he poured himself a whisky. "You want one?"

"Please," she replied and her heart ached at the familiar gesture when he held out a glass to her.

He knocked his glass against hers. "To Alex."

She nodded mutely and smiled at him before knocking the drink back. When he retook his seat she rummaged in her bag and handed him a one-litre bottle of Claymore whisky. "I brought this for you."

He gave a small laugh when he saw his old favourite. "Thanks, love. Appreciate it."

"Gene... what happened to you afterwards?"

"To me?" he asked incredulously. "I just told you I shot your mother."

"It was an accident. You were trying to rescue her. Surely nobody believed you shot her on purpose?"

He shook his head. "Plenty of people did but in the end, when they found the bullet from Jennet's gun in a pillar behind where I'd been standing, my version of events was, eventually, accepted. So, what happened to me? Nothing. I shot and killed a fellow officer and they did nothing. Christ, after a few years, they promoted me as if I was some sort of tragic, noble hero. What a shitting mess, eh?"

"It was an accident. It was a tragic one but... she'd be sad to think you still blamed yourself. She wouldn't have wanted that."

Gene looked away for a brief moment. _Stupid thing to say. How could my Alex have wanted anything? She died, for fuck's sake. _"Look, I know this sounds bloody selfish but I'd rather not talk about this any more. I can't..."

"No. I mean, it's fine. I understand. I should... go."

He nodded. "Do you? Understand?"

Alex swallowed painfully and nodded, a false brightness on her face as she got to her feet. "Of course I do."

He struggled to his feet. "Thanks for stopping by, B-Molly, and for coming all this way to see me. Goodbye." He held out a hand to her.

As soon as she touched him, Alex thought her heart would break; his hands felt the same, his touch as assured as ever. "Thanks for talking with me. Goodbye, Gene."

He squeezed her hand gently and she felt tears threatening to escape. How could she let him go? It was agony to think that he would never know she was here with him.

His thumb stroked over her knuckles. "I know it's you, Bolly," he whispered.

Alex's tear-filled eyes met his and she shook her head, trying to pull her hand from his.

He wouldn't let go. "You think I'm senile? You think that I wouldn't know you instantly?"

"My name's Molly," said Alex brokenly.

"Bollocks," he scoffed. "I know it's you, Alex but if you think I'm just a crazy old fart then thanks for the message about your 'mother', love. However, if you don't want to play this bloody stupid little game then, please, stop lying and tell me what the hell is going on here."

She couldn't lie to him any longer so she reached out and caressed his cheek. "Gene..." she whispered.

"Jesus... Bolls. Oh, my Bolly," he whispered, gathering her close with a strangled sob. "I knew it. Am I dying? Have you come for me?"

Alex sobbed into his shoulder. "No, no you're not dying. It's like I told you all those years ago. I'm from the future. I'm from _now_. I didn't lie to you then, Gene and I can't lie to you now. All of it was true." Holding him tightly it all poured out - everything from the time Arthur Layton shot her on a rubbish barge in 2008 until now. The whole mad, insane story flowed out of her and he listened without interruption. "I've been miserable without you," she finished, "and back then, I was miserable without Molly. I relied on you and needed you far more than you'll ever know and I can't… I can't believe it that this is it for us… _This_ is how it ends?"

"Ending or not, this is fucking insane," he growled, still holding her. "Christ, Bolly... _how_...?"

"I don't know how," she said, a note of tearful desperation in her voice. "I don't know. All I do know is that it happened. Somehow, I ended up with you in the early 1980's. Gene, please believe me. I know it's mad but I have no other way of-"

He pulled back for her a little bit and placed a finger on her lips. "How you do go on, woman," he said with a sad smile. "But if what you're saying is correct, then a hell of a lot a things make sense. Including that thing you knew about Charles, Di and Camilla. I mean, Jesus! I nearly choked on me omelette when I heard that. The future King of England wanted to be a tampon. Jesus." He rubbed his face in disgust and shuddered. "But you knew about it. You knew about a lot of mad things and... and... well..."

"Well, what?" she breathed, seeing more pieces of the puzzle click into place for him.

"Well, it must be true then, mustn't it?"

"It is true, Gene. Everything. I promise you it is even though I know it's insane."

He stepped forward again and framed her face in his hands. "Oh, Bolly. How I've missed you and your insanity but do you know what?"

"What?" she replied, her eyes filling with tears as she saw his acceptance.

"Your type of insanity kept me going. I lived for it," he whispered, eyes tracing over every inch of her beloved face. "Christ, you're so young. It's just over 27 years since I last saw you and you haven't aged a day." He tenderly brushed the tears from her cheeks.

Alex couldn't speak because she couldn't say the same thing about him. Her Gene was old and careworn.

"I know, love. Years with a broken heart and fucked hip will do this to a bloke."

"Don't," she whispered, her throat aching with sadness.

"I can't image what it must be like for you," he continued, determined to seize the chance he'd prayed for over all these years. "A right wrinkly old bastard telling you he loves you. But I do, Alex. I always did, you daft tart."

"Gene, please-"

"All I ever wanted was a few more seconds with you, Bolls. Just to tell you that I love you. 'Course, I'd have much preferred it if you never went and died on me in the first place but you did. And you have no idea how often I've wished I had that time with you again."

She hugged him close. "I dream about you all the time."

Her whispered confession pierced his soul. "Nah - you dream about the old me. Shit, the younger me, I mean. Lucky bastard - 46 years old, a beautiful woman at his side and too much of a gutless wonder to do anything about it. I never took a chance, Bolly. Instead, I always assumed I'd have the perfect moment to ask you out properly – that we'd get a chance to be together. So much wasted time… stupid, _stupid_, bastard. "

Alex cried, her heart fit to break. She thought meeting him would help her to move on but it was quite the opposite. He was still Gene and it was torture to think he'd lived all these years in lonely regret and sadness.

Her let her go and limped to a bookcase on her right, hip protesting with every step, where he took out an old and ratty looking London Metropolitan Police file; apparently, her file wasn't missing after all. Rifling through the pages, knowing exactly what was written on every single one of them, he withdrew an envelope.

"Here, Bolls," he said, putting it into her hands. "You keep it."

She looked at the front of it. His handwriting had scrawled her name on it. "What is it?"

"Something I never should've taken in the first place."

Alex opened the envelope, shook it, and her old warrant card fell out with a post-it attached.

She flipped it over and sure enough, it was her card but with CANCELLED stamped repeatedly across her photo and name. It was worn and battered but she could just about make out her blue off-the-shoulder top. "How did you... they usually..."

"Yeah, _usually_ warrant cards from deceased officers are destroyed but I had my ways and means. I wanted to give it back to you, to tell you I was wrong to take it. I kept it with me every day on the job. Kept it with mine... kept you with me," his hands closed over hers, "I didn't want to let you go... I'm so sorry, Bolly. Hope you'll forgive me - for all of it." He sniffed and pressed his lips firmly.

"Oh, Gene... of course I forgive you," she said forlornly and hugged him tightly again. "Of course I do. It was an accident - a stupid bloody accident and I can't bear to think that they thought you shot me deliberately. Not you..."

He kept his arms around her and spoke softly, "You once wrote me a letter in case you didn't get a chance to say goodbye properly but you an' me are going to say goodbye properly, Bolly. No letter can do the job."

"I can't," she gasped, a wheezing sob choking her.

"'Course you can," he said with confidence and took her hands. "Goodbye, my darling Bolly. I have loved you for years - loved you way back then, love you now. You were an infuriating posh tart and I would never have changed a thing about you. Leave me now and know that you've given me the one thing I wished for - a few more seconds with you. You've given me something else too, something I'd no right to expect. Forgiveness."

"There's so much more I want to tell you-" she began but he placed a gentle finger on her lips again.

"You came back to me and granted wishes, like the psycho fairy that you are. But like all psycho fairies, you can't explain everything and you won't stay for long. I won't see you again. Can't. It's too... much."

She knew he wanted her to say goodbye, to give him the one thing he had longed for. Reaching up again, she cupped his cheek and stroked her thumb along his jaw. "Goodbye, my Gene Genie. If you ever want me, you know where I am. Right here," she placed a hand on his heart. "I love you."

He covered her hand with his and squeezed it, kissing her palm before letting her go and stepping away from her.

"I love you too, Alex. And just in case, there's something you should know..." He leaned forward and whispered into her ear.

She smiled at him, whispered that she'd never forget, and with their first and last gentle kiss, she let herself out of the flat and walked away, her warrant card tucked safely into the back pocket of her jeans.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

She never knew where she got the strength to walk away from him. But she kept going, one foot doggedly in front of the other, until she rejoined Molly and Evan at the small hotel. She was too sad to cry - seeing him had completely shattered her heart.

"Alex, is everything okay?" Even asked her after dinner. Molly was busy perusing the dessert trolley and Evan seized the opportunity to ask. Since she had walked into the lobby that afternoon he had known that something was wrong. Molly hadn't suspected a thing, thinking Alex had gone to the spa for a morning's relaxation to help with her headaches.

Alex nodded and stared at the napkin scrunched in her hands. She wanted him to be quiet, to leave her in peace. After all, she had answered all his questions about Gene earlier; _yes, he remembered her. Yes, he was still the same. Yes, it had been nice to meet him. Yes, yes, fucking yes. Now, shut up!_ Her mind screamed in impotent anger.

"Talk to me, Alex, please?" Evan pleaded. "What happened today?"

"Nothing happened, Evan, for fuck's sake," she snarled at him, her temper barely in check. She held a hand up in apologies - another side effect of her medication. Mood swings. They were the hardest to deal with, especially when everything irritated her. Noise in particular; magpies, children playing football on the street, Molly typing too hard on the keyboard, the hum of the fridge, neighbour's music, Evan's cough, Bryan's overly loud laugh. She twisted the napkin tighter. Gene hadn't even noticed she was blind in her right eye.

Making her excuses, Alex took herself off for an early night, complete with a long bath but it didn't work as Gene filled her dreams. Old Gene merging to younger Gene and snippets of conversations, arguments, laughter, glimpses of his eyes. She woke crying.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

Three months later, she happened across his obituary in the paper. He had died from cancer the previous month. Illness bravely borne and is deeply regretted by his many friends. Well done, good and faithful servant.

And Alex had to carry on alone.

He was gone from her and the loneliness she had experienced before was nothing compared to the utter desolation she felt now. If she could only have seen him one more time, just once. She knew he had said his goodbyes to her but that didn't mean she couldn't have gone to see him. She would've stayed out of sight - anything just to be near him. Distraught, she crumpled the flight reservation to Spain in her hands and watched it burn in the fireplace, poking it until every last shred of it was gone. Gene was dead and nothing could have prepared her for the grief she now felt.

She grieved for him as keenly as if they had been husband and wife and she couldn't share it with anyone. For months, her world was grey and empty and the only person she tried for was Molly. It was hard, terribly hard, but she was determined to keep her agonising grief to herself in front of her daughter. She didn't give a damn what anyone else thought or said as long as Molly was happy.

In the long run, making an effort for Molly helped her. It took her a while but gradually she began to remember the good times she had shared with Gene. It could've been so much more, and yes, it was cut short but that didn't mean that she couldn't laugh when she thought about their time together. For example, she remembered their whispered set-up and how she couldn't even look at him in the Quattro on the return journey to the station. Ray never looked the same way at a battered sausage again after that. Gene had relished that one - laughing over it at one of their last lunches together until he damn near cried.

Soon, she found that the light that she thought had been extinguished refused to die completely and she cherished the tiny glimmer that she would never let go. Meeting in the present was not an option any more but maybe they would meet again someday, some time. He wouldn't want her to be miserable all the time so she did the best she could. Tried to be the mother Molly deserved, tried to do her job, tried, tried, tried so hard but she hated being a trier. She had always been a winner; quick, sharp, intelligent and happy. Now, it took her a day to do even simple things at work. She couldn't write for long, couldn't do anything much at all. Her balance wasn't good and was getting worse, as were her headaches. She was always pale now, unable to sleep at nights as pain managed to torment her in one way or another. The next person that gave her the "You're so brave" speech was going to get a smack. In the chops.

She waved goodbye to Molly, who had happily bounded into her grandparents home. Bryan and Marjorie were only too happy to have her to stay and were also keen to help out their daughter-in-law. Alex's tiredness and obvious pain had affected them too and they had encouraged Peter to come back from Canada and start helping more with Molly. He had been back a month and was beginning to see how badly Molly needed him. How badly Alex needed him. She tolerated his guilty concern but she still couldn't stand to be in the same room with him for longer than half an hour. At least he looked after Molly, took her out to do fun things, helped to get all her new things that she needed for the upcoming school year. It was just as well as Alex had staggered up the stairs when they had left for a day of shopping. Exhausted, she collapsed into bed and willed herself to sleep. Even an hour would help.

_Sleep well, Bolls._

It was Peter who found her, curled up in her bed, looking like she was asleep but the deathly pallor of her skin gave her away. The only comfort they all drew from Alex's sudden death was that is was sudden. The massive brain haemorrhage struck while she was asleep and she never felt a thing. However, it didn't make the shock of her death any easier to handle for Molly. With her family around her, she gradually came to see that that her Mum had done everything she could to stay with her. She had tried so very hard but even Molly knew that her Mum wasn't a trier. She was a fighter and winner. A bullet to the head had changed that, had slowly killed her Mum, for nearly 13 months. But Molly loved her for trying anyway.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

"Evan?"

"Yes, Scrap?"

"We're going now. Please say you'll come with us."

"Of course I will," he replied and took Molly's hand.

"Who's this?" Molly pointed to the neat grave.

"This, Molls, is a man who looked after your Mum when she was a little girl. I cannot believe they've ended up in the same place again," said Evan, tapping the headstone with what seemed like affection. "You look after her, Hunt."

"How did he know my Mum?" asked Molly.

"He carried your Mum away from the car bomb that killed her Mum and Dad. She wouldn't let him go, not until he brought her into the police station to wait for me. Helped me to get custody of her too."

"He must've been a brave man." Molly was reading the headstone and saw all the commendations Gene had received.

"He was. Kind too although he'd sooner eat glass than have anyone acknowledge that fact."

"I like it that she's here," smiled Molly sadly. "That she's with all these other brave police men and women. That she's with him again. It's nice."

"It is," agreed Evan, his heart aching. "Let's go, Scrappy."

Molly didn't budge.

"Molls?"

"It's the badge," she croaked.

He knew what she was talking about instantly. When they had tidied Alex's room they found an old, Metropolitan Police warrant card tucked into the back of a picture frame. Nobody could make out what was underneath the "Cancelled" stamps but something very odd was written on a post-it inside it. _I'll always keep you with me. Love, Gene._ It seemed disrespectful to just heap it into a drawer as Alex had obviously treasured it.

"Can't be-"

"It must be," persisted Molly. "He must've given it to her, maybe years and years ago. We don't know any Genes today but she knew this one a long time ago."

Not wanting to squash Molly's romantic notions, he smiled at her. "You could be right, Scrap." Maybe Hunt had given it to her when they met last year but it still didn't make sense to Evan. He had already made the link, thought about the possibility that note could've been from Gene Hunt but... no. Ridiculous notion.

Molly may have been 13 but she knew when she was being humoured - Evan wasn't as clever as he liked to think. However, today was not the day for her to pick a point with him. With one last lingering look at her mother's grave, Molly and Evan made their way to the waiting car as the mourners left the Metropolitan grave plot to its bravest and finest. Weeks later, after Alex's headstone had been erected, Molly came back on her own with the warrant card in one hand and flowers in the other.

"I know it was from him, Mum, and that it meant a lot to you. So... here... you keep the badge." She carefully separated the badge from its backing and pushed it into the soil at the foot of the headstone. Then she went over to Gene's grave, removed the dead leaves, placed the flowers on it and touched his name with her fingers. "Please, look after my Mummy, Mr Hunt. Don't let her go."

.oOo.


	2. Promise 2

**Promise**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I'm only using characters from the BBC's Ashes to Ashes for fun. I don't own them and didn't invent them.

**Author's note**: This is a short fic about a possible resolution to the events at the end of the second series. Only a two parter and this is the last bit. Thanks to Louella for being a sterling beta.

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

"I'm not letting you go, so, _bollocks_ to it." He'd been staring at the unopened letter for the better part of an hour and now, he crumpled it tightly in his fist and tossed it into the ashtray, watching as his smouldering cigarette ignited the paper. He had to throw the remains of his pint into it as the flame was bigger than he thought it would be. _We'll say goodbye properly, Bolly, if we have to. I don't want a letter to do the job and I'm giving you this back_. He tucked her warrant card into the breast pocket of his jacket.

Later, just as he was about to fling the entire soggy mess from the ashtray into the bin beside him, he saw that a scorched fragment of paper remained. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and squinted at it, the writing just about visible.

_love you,_

_Alex_

Appalled at the tears that welled up and sniffing them back with determination, Gene took out his own warrant card and tucked the fragment of paper in behind his picture. He wanted to keep it where he knew it would be safe and with him every day. "You great, soft, pillocking nancy," he berated himself aloud as he stared out at the empty street and returned to his thoughts. _Not saying goodbye, Bolls. You an' me are not saying goodbye like this._ He got up and reached for the phone.

"CID?"

"Ray - it's me. I'm in The Ship in the Isle of Dogs. Come and get me."

"But, Guv-"

"Just come and get me, Ray. I can't do this. I didn't shoot her deliberately - I couldn't. I'm innocent and innocent men don't run."

"Okay, Guv. Sit tight."

"I'll be here."

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

Everything hurt. Every conceivable body part ached. She was so cold too and could feel her teeth chattering, no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

"Here, love," said a kind voice, and a straw was placed between her lips. Alex sucked on some delicious water for an all too brief moment before the straw was removed.

She tried to talk but she couldn't think of what she wanted to say. It was something important.

"Can you hear me, Alex?"

Cold. Now her legs were shaking. And her hands. A cool, kind hand was placed against her cheek. Hot. Too hot.

"Alex?"

"S-s-s..."

"That's it. Try again, Alex. Can you hear me?"

"Y-y's."

"Good. Alex, don't panic and listen to me. You're in hospital. You've been very seriously wounded but you've come through the operation. The bullet didn't penetrate-"

"Hel... h'lp... me... Ge...n... nne..."

"Shush, shush." The hand gently stoked her hair. "Alex, the bullet didn't penetrate any major organs but it did rupture the small intestine. We've patched you up and all things considering, you've been one very lucky lady."

"H-h-head," she chattered. Her head - she'd been shot in the head! It was a very important thing! She had to tell someone.

"Is your head sore?"

_Bloody questions. Of course it's fucking sore! I've a bullet in my... side?_ She blinked. "Whuh?"

"Alex, you're in hospital. You were shot in your abdomen, lower left, you've been patched up and now you're going to be fine." The voice was calm, kind, and over explanatory as if talking to a half-wit.

_I'm not a half-wit._

"You must be very confused but you're not awake properly yet. You developed an infection and as a result of the shooting and you're suffering from a high temperature. You've either been unconscious or delirious for five days but today is a good day, I think."

The trembles were easing off and Alex blinked again and tried to focus.

"Hello." A woman smiled at her.

Alex tried to reply.

"Are you too hot or cold?"

"Hot," she managed to croak. "Cold."

The nurse fussed about, explaining again about infections and temperature and blah, blah, blah. Alex just wanted her to go so she could think. Eventually, she was left in peace and she tried to marshal her thoughts into order but she kept drifting off, waking every few hours in confusion and disorientation. It took a day or so but gradually, she could stay awake for longer and longer periods of time. She saw the nurse pass her bed.

"Mary," she called, her voice almost back to normal again.

The nurse stopped and came over to her. "What is it?" she asked kindly.

"Mary, can you please see if my Guv can visit me today? Please? I so want to see him."

But to Alex's dismay and disappointment, Gene wasn't allowed to see her. Shaz, Ray, Chris, the inquiry team; they'd all come in but the one person she wanted the most was kept away. Every single time the door opened, Mary saw Alex look hopefully towards the end of her cubicle, and one day, as a hospital orderly bustled past with fresh laundry, the disappointment was too much for Alex to handle.

"He'll be here, Alex," soothed the nurse, patting Alex's hand. "Don't be upset."

"No, you don't understand," she choked around a sob. "Please, please, tell them how much I want to see him. I need to talk to him. _Please_."

"You know I can't resist it if a woman begs for me, Bolly," came the beloved voice from the end of her bed.

Alex started and then began to cry in earnest, reaching out for him. The nurse made a discreet exit, closed the curtains around Alex's bed and left them to it. No words were necessary as Gene held her tightly, determined that nothing or nobody would take her from him again, especially not himself. Alex clung to him, as relief, joy and sadness poured from her.

Eventually, Gene fished in his pocket for a tissue. "Here, Bolls," he said, his voice gravelly. "There's only so much water my coat can absorb." He dabbed at her deathly pale cheeks and Alex took the tissue with a smile. Calmer now, he helped arrange her pillows comfortably, took the chair beside her bed and scooted close so he could keep her hand in his.

"How are you feeling, Bolls?"

Everyone had kept him up-to-date on her condition once he had turned himself in. There was no point in running, not when Alex's life hung in the balance. He wanted to be near her, to know how she was doing, to be able to see her and he couldn't do any of that if he was on the run. Anyway, he realised he had nowhere to go - all the people he trusted were in Fenchurch. Or in hospital. Alex wouldn't have run out on him so the very least he could do was stay for her. He didn't know how he managed to spot the tiny bit of paper that finally made up his mind for him; _love you, Alex._ If she really did, then he was going to find out. Gene Hunt was many things but a coward wasn't one of them.

He could take it even if she had written,_ "I don't, and will never, love you. Alex"_. One way or another, he had to know and to do that, he had to stop being a sad sack of shit and be a man. Fuck the inquiry team - it was an accident and he would make them see it was. Having given his version of events for what seemed like the umpteenth time, Ray had triumphantly returned to Fenchurch this evening. The scene of crime people had found Jenette's bullet lodged in a pillar directly behind where Gene had been standing. As soon as he'd been free to leave, Gene tore home, cleaned himself up in record time and sped back to the hospital. Seeing her awake - he didn't deserve the relief that washed over him. Everything that had happened could be put right now that she was back with him.

"Still a bit woozy but I'm here," she replied, her eyes tracing over every inch of his face. It felt like she hadn't seen him for years.

"Wanted to come in and see you earlier but the inquiry team thought it best if I didn't. Better if you told them what happened without my influence." He grasped her hand a little bit tighter.

"Couldn't tell them much, Gene," she said sadly, moving her thumb over his. "I can only remember up to the night before it- you- er..."

"Before I shot you."

She nodded sadly. "If I could, I'd give you a well deserved kick in the arse for that."

"Fair's fair," he said, his voice hollow. "It was an accident, Bolls. Was aiming for Jenette," he whispered. "I would never hurt you like that."

"I know," she whispered back, feeling her eyes well up again. "I know you wouldn't."

He caressed her cheek briefly with the back of his finger. "I know what I said to you, Bolly, when we argued but... I didn't mean it. _Any_ of it. I was livid but I thought you hated me - that I'd been deluding myself about us. Worse, when I asked you for the truth, I thought you were taking the piss."

"Wasn't, though," she muttered. "I believed it. I wouldn't lie to you, Guv. I couldn't. I couldn't hate you either. Please, Gene, _please_ believe me-"

"Shush, Bolly, don't upset yourself, love," he said kindly, hearing the desperation in her voice. "You have nothing to be sorry over. Can't say I believe you're from the future but I do know that you thought you were and that's enough for me."

"But it can't be," she protested, eyes full of uncertainty. "I don't understand why I believed it either. I'm so confused and... and I'm so scared. What's happening to me?"

"I don't know, Bolls," he said honestly.

She had to ask the dreaded question, the one thing she knew Gene would give her an honest answer to. "Gene, am I mad? I mean, really insane?" She couldn't hold the threatened tears back and one trickled down her face before she could swipe it away - crying would only make this harder.

"No, love," he replied with certainty. "You're not insane."

"How do you know?" she said, sniffling. "Maybe I am. I must be."

He took both of her hands in his and looked straight at her. "DI Alexandra Drake, you are as sane as I am. I may not have a degree in psycho-nutters but I do know that when someone is insane, they sure as shit don't question it. No, they're quite happy living in their little la la land and scaring the snot out of the rest of us. I don't know what happened to you, Bolls, but we'll find out if we can."

"So... I'm not crazy?" Her hopeful eyes met his.

"No. I mean, you may be mad as a hatter from time to time, but it's the good sort of crazy. Not the bad kind."

She gave a watery smile. "There's a good and bad crazy, then?"

"Of course there is, and here was me thinking you were the psychoanalyst." He saw her little smile and he continued, "I think, as coppers, we're all a little bit of the good sort of crazy. You'd have to be to do our job, right? Your particular type of crazy drives me up the wall but I wouldn't be without it."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Daft girl," he whispered back. "Is this why you've been so upset? Thinking that I wouldn't believe you and that you were nuts?"

She gave a small, forlorn nod.

He shook his head. The fact that he shot her, that he put her in this miserable place, that she was obviously in pain, all of that seemed to have escaped her notice. Instead, she was worried about his reaction? It was true - he had it so damn lucky, he didn't know he was born. He reached into his pocket and withdrew her warrant card, placing it into her hand with a searching look - begging for forgiveness, for understanding, and hating it that he couldn't say the words. _You're such a gutless wonder, Hunt, you fucking coward. Trust you to bottle it when you have everything you want. You got your second chance, a miracle, now talk to her. Talk, you stupid, stupid bastard. Talk or you'll regret it for the rest of your life._

So he took a deep breath and went for it. "Bolly, I never should've taken this from you. Am so sorry, love. Am so sorry about all of it."

She took the card and clenched it tightly in her hand, glad to be reunited with it again. "I know you are, Gene. It was an accident." She brushed her fingers lightly over his forehead and smoothed some hair back from his eyes.

"You're far too good to me," he replied, turning his cheek into her palm. "It scared the shit out of me, seeing you lying there like that after I'd shot you. All too clear."

She tilted his head gently so she could look directly at him. "What was clear?"

"You. Me... us. I thought, well, I thought we had a connection - that we were unbreakable, you know? But we're not. In the end, it didn't take much to break us apart."

"A young, pretty woman threw herself at you, Gene. You wouldn't be a man if you didn't notice her and she appealed to you as the only decent sheriff in Dodge City. Set us up against each other - wounded where it would hurt the most."

Gene froze and then gave her a rueful smile. "And do you know what the really pathetic thing is? I knew it. I knew exactly what she was doing and I still played along because..."

"Because why?" she prompted softly, with a sleepy smile.

"Because I knew it would piss you right off."

"It worked."

He traced his thumb over the back of her hand in little circles as he gathered his thoughts.

"It just snowballed out of control, Bolly. You an' me... I can hardly remember the last time I was that angry with anyone and then... then I almost finished the job and broke us apart forever. Over what?"

"It was an accident, Gene," she repeated, her eyes beginning to drift shut. "A stupid row and a stupid accident and we do have a connection; we always will. We'll be okay now."

"I hope we'll be more than okay," he whispered, feeling her grip on his hand loosen a bit. "And you do know that I didn't mean what I said to you-"

She gave him a sleepy smile. "Will you stop, please? If you keep going there'll be nothing left of you for me to beat up. I won't even get one decent arse kick."

He chuckled and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. "It's true, I do need punishing and as I said, fair is fair. I've been a very bad boy, Madam Fruitcake. I'll need a good thrashing."

"Perv," she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed but her smile was still evident.

He watched as she gradually nodded off. "Sleep well, Bolls."

"Stay wi' me," she mumbled. "Jus' need five minutes..."

"I'll be here," he reassured and settled back into the chair. He started to read yesterday's paper and smiled to himself as Alex snored. Not delicate, ladylike little puffs either.

He liked the sound, liked it that she was comfortable, out of pain and was relaxed enough to sleep with him beside her.

When the nurse peeked in, she saw a sprawled Gene, fast asleep in the comfortable chair with the newspaper spread across his chest, Alex's hand in his, and her patient out for the count for her first proper sleep in a week. Visiting hours may be over but sometimes a visitor was exactly what the doctor ordered.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

Alex woke a few hours later to with her usual pains and aches and bewildered confusion, although those bouts didn't last that long any more. Very quickly she remembered what had happened, where she was and more importantly, who was with her. Gene was still out of it and the newspaper had slipped to a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Gene," she croaked. "Gene, wake up."

He jerked awake. "Bolly!" He sat bolt upright and stared at her. "Are you okay, Bolls?"

"Bit sore," she said, trying not to sound wimpy. "Could you hand me those pills, please?"

He picked up the little plastic cup from her locker that contained about four tablets and poured her a glass of water. Alex gasped in pain as she attempted to sit forward and he could see that she was in some serious discomfort.

"Let me help you sit up," he whispered, conscious of the late hour and other sleeping patients.

"I can do it," she replied and struggled to sit forward again. "God helps those who help themselves, right?"

He grinned at her. "You've got it arseways again, silly tart. It's the Copper's Code; May God help those _caught_ helping themselves, remember?"

Alex snickered softly and he gently slipped an arm underneath her shoulders and carefully moved her a bit more upright. Then holding her in that position, he gave her the pills and water. Once she'd swallowed them all he helped her settle back against the pillows and tucked her blankets up around her.

She saw him looking at her in grave concern. "I'll be okay in about 20 minutes."

"You're in a lot of pain." _All sorts of pain. Caused by me_.

"It's just everything knitting back together, or so I'm told," she explained, "but I haven't got a temperature any more and I'm not even sore around the wound so the infection's gone. You'll see, 20 minutes will make all the difference."

"You look-"

"Don't tell me," she said, smiling wanly. "I'm better off thinking I look great."

He rolled his eyes in pretend exasperation. "I was about to say you look like Rita Hayworth or what's-her-name, Wonder Woman... Lynda Carter."

Alex snorted. "I'm sure I've got the costume on underneath this gown too."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Want me to take a peek?"

That extracted a chuckle from her and he playfully lifted the corner of the sheet, making a grab for her warrant card at the same time. "I asked, remember? Don't want you arresting me for lewd behaviour-"

She grasped his hand and looked at him strangely.

"What, Bolls?"

"I... just had the weirdest..."

Alarmed, he stood up. "Should I call th-"

"No, no... sit." She looked at him again and at the warrant card on her locker. "Show me yours."

He did a double take. "Blimey, Pervy Knickers. That's a bit forward."

She grinned and slapped his arm playfully. "You're the perv. I meant show me your warrant card."

Mystified, he withdrew the card from his pocket and handed it to her. Alex stared at it for a long moment.

"Bolls, what-"

"Shush," she whispered. "Gene... you burnt my letter - the one I wrote to say goodbye. You never read it and you burnt it... but not all of it."

His eyes met hers in astonishment. Alex flipped the card open and, heart in his mouth, he watched as she carefully put a finger behind his photo, shook the card and watched in amazement as a fragment of scorched paper fluttered out into her hand. Both of them were stunned.

"How could you possibly have known about that?" he whispered.

She touched a finger to the fragile paper. "I don't know how... it's... you told me about it."

"I bloody well did not," he protested, still gobsmacked.

She was certain he'd told her; whispered it in her ear. "Gene, I could swear you told me about it... you kept me with you... I don't know..."

Gene didn't know what to think. "Bolls, what is going on here? All of your future talk and now this? I knew all along you were psychic and you kept correcting me."

She laughed and tears fell at the same time. "It's _psychology_!"

"It's insane, is what it is," he replied, smiling as he handed her another tissue. "But... Christ, I've missed your good sort of crazy... and you."

Carefully, Alex placed the paper fragment on her knee and took the tissue, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose again. "I'm going to be dehydrated at this rate," she said with a smile. "Gene, I can't explain-"

He shook his head and then carefully sat beside her on the bed, replacing the treasured fragment back in his warrant card. "I don't want explanations, Bolly. You an' me... we don't need everything explained 'cause sometimes... sometimes words don't quite say what we want them to say."

She threaded her fingers through his and squeezed. "Don't be a gutless wonder, Gene."

He snorted in bewildered confusion. "Will you always be able to read my mind or will this be the end of it?"

"I hope it's the start of it."

"We're not talking about the same thing here, are we?"

She shook her head with a shy, warm smile.

"Just so you know... I'm not ever letting you go, Lady Bolls." His smile matched hers. "Tell you what, when you're back on your feet again, how's about a holiday?"

"What kind of a holiday?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"A real pervy one, I hope. Just you an' me," he said, smiling at her. He didn't know where the courage to talk to her like this came from but he figured that if he didn't take his chances, then who knew what sort of regrets he would have. He'd done the hard part - faced his fears and actually spoke honestly to her. The very worst thing she could say would be no but, on the other hand, she could say yes.

"We'll need plenty of sunshine because it can be a bit nippy if you're not wearing any clothes."

"Bloody hell, Bolly!" He mock-protested at her forthrightness. "Well, I wasn't exactly planning on the South Pole, love. The cold can do all sorts of things to a bloke, just when he least expects it."

Alex snorted and squeezed his hand. "Well, some place a bit further south than England would be good."

"I'm not going to ruddy France." He couldn't resist teasing her a little.

"Spain then."

"Filled with ex-pats, ex-men, ex-coppers and ex-cons."

"There's more to Spain than Alicante, Gene."

He started down at their intertwined hands and wanted to be serious for a moment. "I suppose we could find a little town where tourists never go. Some place nice and… peaceful."

"Portbou."

"Never heard of it."

"Exactly," she beamed and then blinked in confusion, a frown creasing her forehead. "Er, me neither."

He laughed and kissed her knuckles. "Oh, my Bolly, you complete fruitcake. Right, if it exists, unheard of Portbou it is. You an' me, Bolls - fighting over the suncream together."

"Can't wait," she replied, feeling sleep beginning to tug at her again. "Want to be with you."

"Want you to be there," he said, softly. "I won't ever let you go, Bolly."

Alex tightened her grip on his hand. "I promise that if you don't let go then neither will I. Promise?"

Gene pulled back for a moment and saw the look in her eyes, his answer. Love. Alex loved him. Then he leaned down and kissed her gently; their first kiss of many. "Promise."

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x THE END x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x


End file.
